A group of them walked past, obviously tipsy, having a good time, dressed up to the sevens. One returned from the apartment they went into; not quite hipsterorgay material, but enough of each category that you’d ask the question, at least in your head. He paused entering the convenience store, and on his way out, walked over and pointed a cigarette packet at me, his lack of a lighter obvious.
“Do you smoke?”
“No, I don’t sorry.”
“You’re really cute.”
He walked off near-instantly, and I was surprised enough that the hesitation in my chuffed laugh and thank you were an instant too late. A few minutes later, an intensely energetic young black woman with a band-aid on her chin approached and remarked on my lack of a hat, words tumbling out I didn’t understand. She returned with her groceries, and a small orange corrugated paper coffee cup, depositing it at my feet and dropping some coins in. Her near-meth-like enthusiasm was overwhelming but appreciated as she ran back to the car. When she was out of sight, I emptied the cup and disposed of it, but not without appreciating the gesture.
A man who might have been drunk or special mumbled something I couldn’t understand and staggered past, getting money out, then going back to the bottle shop. At the call of my instincts I went back to the house of the people I’d met the previous week on the way home to give them a copy of the CD, where I met the remaining housemate Stef and her boyfriend with no name. Both looked formerly of the hardcore scene, formerly my people. We conversed about our houses and how I build the internet until I decided I couldn’t be interesting much longer, and made my exit.
A cat slunk into the driveway and into the shadows, not to be seen again. A pang of hunger, and no memory of dinner. Tonight went somewhere, but I’m not sure where.